A Spring Sonnet

By Arthur Henry Adams

Last night beneath the mockery of the moon

I heard the sudden startled whisperings

Of wakened birds settling their restless wings;

The North-east brought his word of gladness, "Soon!"

And all the night with wonder was a-swoon.

A soul had breathed into long-dreaming things;

Some unseen hand hovered above the strings:

Some cosmic chord had set the earth in tune.

And when I rose I saw the Bay arrayed

In her grey robe against the coming heat.

A pulse awoke within the stirring street—

The wattle-gold upon the pavements thrown,

And through the quiet of the colonnade

The smoky perfume of boronia blown.